


I am not resigned

by EACade



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, Clan Culture, Gen, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, OC insert, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 00:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EACade/pseuds/EACade
Summary: I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.  CrownedWith lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.~Edna St. Vincent MillayA quiet life and an easy death was all she ever asked for. Boring, yes, but she’d never really had much ambition. To keep the people she loved close to her and herself comfortable was really all she wanted. Her first life was indeed quiet, and while her death wasn’t easy at least it was quick. Her new life, though, promised to be much more interesting.Wonderful.





	I am not resigned

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not ever finish this (though I do promise to try), so if that bothers you it may be best you don't read it. Constructive criticism is cautiously welcome (though I reserve the right not to take heed of it), but if you're just here to tear something apart then see yourself out, thanks. I will add tags as needed for content, but if I miss something please let me know what to tag and I will.

It was a spark of familiarity that startled her awake. She was sitting on the floor, a slightly springy woven surface that smelled of hay. Around her was the barely contained chaos of a group of over excited children tumbling around and shouting. Aside from the hay smell of the floor the room was full of the scent of curry and sweets, paper, cloth, metal, a muddled mess of individual people of a wide range of ages, at least one dog, and the faintest hint of old blood. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she sniffed quietly, staring at the chaos around her.

 

Why did she know all of those smells? 

 

She was at...a party? She was surrounded by people she recognized, children and adults alike. The room was decorated with grey and white and sunny yellow streamers and balloons. The adults were clustered to one side near a table laden with plates and bowls of food and treats, tempting aromas rising from them and carrying stronger than they should over to where she sat surrounded by packages.

 

A rustle of paper drew her attention, and she glanced over to see a small child with a fluffy tuft of silver hair tearing into his own pile of packages. A flood of warm affection at the sight of him made her lips quirk up at the corners, and she leaned over to rub her cheek on his shoulder without a second thought. He paused to give her an exasperated stare from the corner of his eye, then huffed quietly and went back to ripping the wrapping off the small box in front of him.

 

On the floor in front of her surrounded by torn pieces of brightly colored paper lay the object that had startled her. A dark, long triangle that had a short handle coming from the base with a ring at the end. She reached out a strangely tiny hand to grasp the handle and lifted it for a closer look. It was more yielding than she expected, the surface sticking to her hand slightly rather than sliding like she had unconsciously anticipated. It felt like rubber, but it should have been metal. She frowned, staring at the familiar unfamiliar object. 

 

Why did she know it should have been metal?

 

It should have been metal because it was a weapon. A weapon that she recognized. A kunai. She stared at the tiny hand wrapped around the rubber handle, confused. Why was her hand so  _ small _ ? Her hands weren’t supposed to be small, they were actually a bit larger than average for her size with long, clever fingers. She remembered how pleased she was when she started learning the piano that she could stretch so far with them. She started learning the piano when she was eight. She started learning to knit when she was thirteen. She started learning to paint when she was fourteen. She started learning to drive when she was sixteen. She started learning pottery when she was seventeen. She was in college when she was eighteen, an art student. She was on her way to a life drawing class, she was nineteen, she was  _ hit by a bus _ and she  _ died _ and then she  _ wasn’t dead _ why was she so  _ small? _

 

Overwhelmed by the flood of memories she did the only thing she could do. She started to cry. The noise of the room hushed suddenly, and before a second wail could escape her trembling lips she was lifted from the floor by strong arms and cuddled close against a solid, warm chest. She hiccuped wetly and buried her face in the rough canvas, breathing in the comforting smell of spice and ozone and wolf, as a hand rubbed her back in slow, gentle strokes. Her panic receded, soothed by the recognition of her father’s scent and familiar touch.   
  


“Hey, hey there pup, you’re okay,” a low voice rumbled the chest under her. Another, smaller hand brushed the hair back from her forehead, and she lifted her face a little to see who it was. Wide gray eyes met hers, soft with sympathy, as a beautiful woman with dark red curving triangles on her cheeks leaned close, the dog and flowers and sticky rice smell just as comforting. Her mother.

 

“Aww, Ko-chan, is the party a little too much excitement for you?” she asked softly, leaning close to rub her nose against Ko’s cheek. That was her name. Ko-chan. Komugi. Her name was Komugi, and it was her birthday. Hers and her brother’s. Her brother Kakashi.  _ Hatake Kakashi.  _ The startled realization sent her into another fit of crying, which triggered sympathetic tears in several more children, her brother included, and the next ten minutes was a blur of frantic parents trying to soothe their wailing offspring. 

 

Eventually everyone was settled down again, if not as carefree as they had been before Komugi started the contagious hysterics, and she found herself tucked into her father’s lap back in front of the presents, rubber kunai still clutched in her sweaty little hand. Still sniffling, she peeked shyly out of her huddle and examined all the guests with her new perspective. 

 

Just beside her in their mother’s lap was tiny Kakashi, one year old, hair a wild tufty mess of silver, eyes heavy lidded and dark. He was staring back at her with a concerned pout on his face, and Komugi took a second to marvel at the lack of a mask. He was  _ so cute _ . She experienced once again the flood of adoration as she took in his obvious worry over her, and she reassured him with a small smile. He huffed audibly, grumpy now that all the fuss was over and his sister was fine, and returned his attention to his small pile of presents. 

 

Sitting next to them was an enormous shaggy black and white dog who gave the boy a distinctly amused look, then leaned closer to push his cold nose into Komugi’s ear. She squeaked and flailed with the kunai, barely missing her father’s face as he leaned back and laughed. She frowned up at him, then turned her betrayed face to the dog. 

 

“No,” she pouted, wiping her free hand at her damp ear. “‘Kuro,  _ no _ .” Her father laughed again, a warm chuckle that jostled her in his lap. Shirokuro gave her a wide doggy grin, chuffing a laugh of his own, but settled back against her mother’s side and turned his attention to Kakashi’s delighted crowing over his new shuriken patterned blanket. Komugi went back to her people watching, absentmindedly chewing on the end of the kunai. 

 

On the other side of the mess of paper and toys sat a solemn boy with long black hair and the pale eyes of a Hyuuga. He looked about three years old, and was eyeing the younger, more rambunctious children around him with no small amount of distaste. A particularly rowdy child close by was receiving most of his narrow eyed looks. They looked about two or three, with wild, spiky dark brown hair, freckles, and sharp teeth. Those teeth were on full display as they crouched on all fours, growling playfully at a pair of younger, blonde haired girls with pigtails who were doing their best growl back. Off to the side of the room, closer to the adults, lay a pair of sleepy eyed toddlers with their black hair up in spiky ponytails. 

 

Komugi eyed the nearly napping duo contemplatively, then decided she was comfortable where she was and snuggled into her father’s chest more thoroughly. Though the flood of information she was still reeling from was nearly enough to overwhelm the few memories she’d managed to make in this new life, she retained enough to know she loved her new family, and that they loved her in return. The thought that the peace and happiness of her little pack would be broken soon was almost enough to cause a fresh round of heartbroken tears. She shuddered and buried her face again as she shoved the thought firmly away. She couldn’t think about that now, in front of so many perceptive and suspicious people, not when she hadn’t even begun to process it.

 

She pulled away from her father with a deep breath, fortified her nerve, and crawled out of his lap to find herself a distraction. She ignored his worried look and bit her lip, peering around the room once again. The rubber kunai appeared to have been her last present to open. Judging by Kakashi’s delighted growling, he had also finished and joined in the clumsy wrestling pile on the other side of the paper wasteland. A little tired from her emotional upheaval but not really ready for a nap, Komugi turned her attention to the other side of the room. 

 

Over by the food table, once more surrounded by casually chatting adults, was a round faced boy a little older than her with wispy light brown hair cut in a truly unfortunate bowl shape. He was attempting, without much success judging by the amused glances from the adults, to sneak toward the table. Komugi considered for a moment, then casually started to shift further away from her father toward the table. He raised an eyebrow, then dutifully looked away from her to start a conversation with someone nearby. 

 

Dropping to all fours as soon as he turned away, Komugi scuttled between a few sets of legs and under the table with a surprising ease of movement for a one year old. Reaching back out she grabbed the hand of the not particularly stealthy boy, and dragged him under the table with her to a chorus of stifled laughter from the surrounding adults. As soon as she let go of his hand he plopped down on his butt and stared at her, his eyes wide. She scooted closer and put her finger against her lips. 

 

“Wait,” she whispered, glancing around shiftily, then proceeded to idly swing her kunai around in front of her, attempting to look innocent. Her companion gave her a confused look, but when no explanation was forthcoming just shrugged and started tugging idly at the strap of his sandal and watching the others play across the room. After a minute or so, a large, red haired man with a small pointed beard and two dark blue bars on each cheek leaned down to look under the table. Seeing two innocent children occupying themselves quietly, he gave them a soft smile and let them be, standing back up and going back to his conversation.

 

Komugi waited a moment longer, then slowly and carefully scooted back toward the wall. The table wasn’t quite flush against it, leaving just wide enough of a gap for a small hand to reach up. Under the wide eyed gaze of her companion, she slowly stood and stretched to her full height and reached over the edge of the table. Her grasping fingers sunk into something soft, and she pulled her hand back down to find it full of mostly yellow frosting and a small amount of dark brown cake. She frowned at her hand, then shrugged and stuffed it in her mouth with a pleased little hum. The boy’s mouth dropped open and he stared at her in awe. She shifted on her feet, a little uncomfortable with the attention, then reached back up with her sticky fingers for another handful of cake. His eyes widened even further when she offered it to him, then creased nearly shut with the force of his smile. 

 

“Thanks,” he whispered happily, scraping the crumbly, sticky mess into his own hand then shoving it into his mouth. “‘M Haruto,” he mumbled through his mouthful.

 

“Ko-mu-gi,” she replied slowly, doing her best to enunciate with clumsy, undeveloped muscles, then beamed back at him and reached up for more cake. Haruto snuck closer, glancing over his shoulder at the shifting feet of the adults, then slowly stood next to her and reached up to get his own handful of cake. 

 

For the next few minutes the two cheerfully munched away, one messy handful at a time, until a shadow fell over them. They froze, hands in mouths, and turned. Her father knelt next to the table, staring at them with one hand over his own mouth as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. 

 

“Well,” he finally managed, still hiding his smile behind his hand. “I see you’re making friends.” Komugi slowly moved her sticky hand behind her back and grinned back, scratching at her head with her kunai. He laughed aloud, then waved the two of them out from under the table. 

 

“Come on then, it’s time for lunch. No more cake until later.” In short order Komugi and Haruto were shuffled back into the group of toddlers, sticky hands wiped at least somewhat clean, and settled on cushions around the low dining table. The curry Komugi had noticed the smell of earlier was spooned into bowls of still steaming rice, and the small crowd fell on it like starving animals. She hummed happily as she ate, trying to do so at least somewhat neatly but not overly bothered when she didn’t manage it. She was only a year old, she wasn’t going to beat herself up over her lackluster fine motor skills. Only the young Hyuuga came out the other side of lunch without a speck of sauce on his cream colored yukata. 

 

After lunch came the cake. Komugi and Haruto got some amused looks at the discovery of the ragged hole in one side of the otherwise pristine frosting. They returned the looks with wide eyed innocence, much to the adults’ amusement. Once every scrap of cake was gone, Komugi returned to her dad’s side and tugged at his pant leg, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He gave her a soft smile and picked her up, and she reached up to rub her cheek against his chin. The sharp crackle of his chakra filled her nose and she leaned into his chest with a happy sigh, eyes sliding shut under the weight of her exhaustion. She was safe and her family was close. Everything else, she could worry about later. 

 

The sounds of quiet conversation and small children playing followed her into sleep, and if she dreamed she wouldn’t remember it when she woke.


End file.
